


Rooted in Fire

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Ficlet Omens [14]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Beverley looked at the pair of white men sharing a corner table and backed off to the far side of the demi-monde pub. "We don't want to bother them," she said firmly.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beverley Brook/Peter Grant
Series: Ficlet Omens [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620217
Comments: 22
Kudos: 307





	Rooted in Fire

Beverley looked at the pair of white men sharing a corner table and backed off to the far side of the demi-monde pub. "We don't want to bother them," she said firmly.

"Is there something I should be aware of?"

"They're old, and they're rooted in fire, and they have serious levels of power, but if you leave them be, they're polite enough."

"How old," I asked absently, looking them over. One was a skinny ginger dressed in tight black clothes complete with sunglasses, the other white-blond, chubby, dressed like an old professor. Both looked to be in their late forties, or early fifties. Ginger gave off petty-criminal vibes, Prof looked harmlessly respectable.

"Peter, Father Thames says they haven't changed in as long as he can remember."

I whistled silently. That made them a couple of thousand years old at least, that being Father Thames' own age.

"Ty says Crowley can make water burn*," she added. "We leave them alone."

"How the hell do you make water burn?"

Someone else's voice crawled into the back of my head and drawled, _You flick the oxygen atom out of alignment and add a spark._ The vestigia that came with it was the faintly sulphuric scent of a just-struck match, overlaid with apples and the sound of scales sliding across stone.

Ginger paused by our table on his way back from the bar, long fingers cradling wine glasses. "Mr Fell sends his regards to the Nightingale and says if the pair of you pop by the shop in the near future, he can point you to something interesting regarding your technology experiments." His vestigia matched the voice in my head. He added, "Relax, river-girl, we're just here for a meal. No harm, no obligation," and sauntered back to his companion.

***

The "something interesting" turned out to be a young human man, not even a practitioner as far as I could tell. The "shop" was an antique bookshop, so impregnated with this Mr Fell's vestigia that it had none of its own. He was the professor type that Ginger - Crowley - had been with. Vanilla, old books, and candlelight. Not so much the romantic sort, but the candle in the window to offer hope and guide the traveller home to warmth and welcome. The faint light of a candle holding back the darkness. And yet, despite the warmth, and welcome, and gentle softness of its light, it was still a flame. It could still, given the right conditions, burn everything down. Crowley's vestigia was present in the shop too, but fainter, like a caress across skin rather than the skin itself.

The young man took the phone I offered in his hands rather hesitantly, and didn't seem to do anything magical. He just punched in a number and the phone stopped working before he got halfway through. I had to admit, Mr Fell was right. This was going to be an interesting twist to the technology experiments.

I smiled and offered my hand. "Peter Grant. I think we're going to be working together for some time on this."

He smiled back and shook. "Newton Pulsifer," he said. "Pleased to meet you."

**Author's Note:**

> * For example, the note and surroundings that burned in the Serpentine (fed by the Tyburn) in 1862


End file.
